


Failing to Fall

by the_case_for_space (thallata)



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Drinking, Gen, Kanan's feelings about the Jedi are mixed, Some amount of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:22:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10041215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thallata/pseuds/the_case_for_space
Summary: There's hardly a Jedi edict Kanan hasn't violated over the years, so if Ahsoka thinks he's going to come crawling back to the Code, she's going to be disappointed.





	

It wasn’t that he had been avoiding Fulcrum exactly; it was just that Kanan didn’t really want to interact with her more than he had to. Being around her was frustrating; she reminded him too much and not enough of his time in the Jedi Temple. After so long away from other Force users, Ahsoka’s power and focus set his teeth on edge every time his shields dipped. Which was constantly, because apparently the part of Caleb Dume that he had buried deep in his grey matter wanted to reach out and connect. She had been too polite to comment, but she kept giving him odd looks. So he hid his Force presence and withdrew as far from it as he could, which reminded him too much of his time spent drinking and brawling his way through the galaxy. It also got him a lot of side-eye from Ezra who didn’t understand why Kanan’s reaction to a real Jedi wasn’t the unalloyed joy that everyone else seemed expect.

The Force itself wasn’t the only problem though; the increased military attitude she and Phoenix squadron imposed on them was bringing up equally bittersweet memories. He had been in the military, and he wasn’t so nostalgic for it that he wanted to be taking orders from what his subconscious was insisting was a Master Jedi. He was beholden to no one but Hera and the crew of the Ghost. In that order. That was the way he liked it, and the sudden imposition of a whole chain of command was grating. And that didn’t even take into account how his service to the Republic had ended with betrayal and death and years of constant fear. Combining that with his withdrawal from the Force, Kanan could feel himself reverting more and more towards the rough-and-ready gunslinger he had been before he met Hera. She wasn’t pleased with his attitude, but let him work through it. Her faith in him always humbled him, so he tried to carry on. And if he found himself swallowing anger more than he used to, it was a small price to pay for her.

At least Ezra seemed to be enjoying the opportunity for new training, and Sabine was gratified to finally know where they fit in the Rebellion. And it seemed to bring out a side of Zeb he hadn’t seen: organized and responsible. The Lasat settled well into a chain of command, and was even fighting less with Ezra and Chopper. His crew was thriving, and it brought a proud smile to his face to see the ‘kids’ doing so well.

But Kanan still minimized his contact with Fulcrum, and would only attend meetings of the greater Rebellion if Hera made him. 

He had managed to be occupied when Hera had headed off to the last one, which is how he found himself volunteered for a mission with Fulcrum and a handful of specialists. The basic idea was simple: break into an old Jedi Outpost that had been converted into an Imperial Supply Depot. Both of them had been through it during the Clone Wars, so they would provide both intel and combat support.

The initial mission had gone well, but as they left orbit it had gone south fast. Two Star Destroyers blinked into existence at just the wrong time, and released a swarm of TIE fighters, and even with two Force users, they couldn’t save everyone. It was unpleasantly familiar as he felt the faith and trust of his troops burn brightly in the Force even as they lost the second shuttle in a spray of laser fire. All told they returned with only two of the seven who had set out with them, and rather than hold them at fault, if anything he could feel the raw belief in Kanan and Fulcrum only increase as they limped back to the fleet. Kanan grit his teeth and shuttered his mind as much as he could, anger and guilt for failing to save the other shuttle settling in his gut. It kept his irritation at being forced to go on this mission in the first place company, which triggered more guilt for feeling that and mourning those he lost today. Kanan wished, not for the first time, that there was some booze on the shuttle. 

He made do with tea, and sat in the galley sipping it after the remaining crew, both injured, retired for the night. They had been reminiscing about their lost squad mates, the Jedi and the good old days, and Kanan was finding it harder to hold it together. Even with his shields up, he felt an uncomfortable mixture of grief and awe from them. When they started telling Jedi tales, Kanan gently encouraged them to go to bed. He didn’t need their pity, and he certainly didn’t need to hear them extoll the virtues of the Jedi, when he shared almost none of them. . He knew they hadn’t meant it like to be a pointed reminder, but he had known for a long time now, he wasn’t really a Jedi.

So he wasn’t in the best mood when Fulcrum wandered in. 

“Mind if I sit?” she asked politely, her voice calm and steady. He was reminded of his Master and almost said no out of spite before she gestured with the dark brown bottle she held. The promise of mystery booze swayed him, and he took his feet off the other chair so she could sit across form him.

“I thought you could use a drink,” she said, pouring for both of them, “I know I could.”

“Thanks,” Kanan said, guardedly taking one of the glasses and giving it a cautious sniff. It made his eyes water, and smelled more strongly of petrochemicals than anything he had willingly consumed since he met Hera. It suited his mood perfectly.

“Death, yet the Force,” Ahsoka solemnly intoned, raising her glass in a toast. 

Kanan grunted, but declined to echo her sentiment. Instead he clinked her glass and downed the shot. That rotgut ship-distilled spirit burned as he swallowed; this was easily 160 proof. Ahsoka mirrored his action, and managed not to wince, unlike him. 

“If you didn’t care for the toast, perhaps you would like to make one this time,” she said as she filled their glasses again. Her shields were strong, but he could feel something leaking out, though it was too faint for him to identify the exact emotion. He thought it might be annoyance.

“Sure,” he drawled, leaning on the accent he had cultivated since he had buried Caleb, “Succor for the helpless. Honor for the brave. Remembrance for the fallen. Freedom for the slave.”

“That’s actually a pretty good toast,” she admitted. He smiled his most charming smile, and tried not to dwell on what had happened to the man that had taught it to him.

They clinked glasses again, and sipped the alcohol more cautiously this time.   
They finished the glass in almost companionable silence. As they drank, both of them slowly let their shields slip to a level where emotions could leak through. Caleb… Kanan… Kanan thought of it as the ‘politely present’ level of shielding, as opposed to the ‘don’t bother me’ of what he generally maintained or the ‘look at me!’ enthusiasm of Ezra’s current efforts. 

Fulcrum shifted uncomfortably when she felt his anger/guilt leak out between them. Kanan only sensed slight discomfort from her, and a sense of balance and calm, as was proper of a Master. He was impressed; he wouldn’t have been able to maintain that after two shots of this.

“Not a big fan of the Code, are you?” she asked as refilled their glasses again.

“After 10 years actually living in the galaxy, instead of apart from it, I can’t say I really see the point.”

The Togruta’s lips thinned in displeasure, and she looked down. Abruptly she raised her glass and rattled off what sounded like a Huttese curse before slamming back her drink. Kanan smiled and did the same. This stuff was growing on him, maybe he would have to ask her where she picked it up. Though if Hera found out, he would be in trouble.

“You really feel no obligation to the Jedi do you? To build it back up again?” she asked with bitterness and an over-enunciation that suggested the alcohol was stating to affect her. Her force presence was less calm now; anger and sadness flickered from her.

“What about you?” he countered. He didn’t really want to have this conversation; it was one of the reasons he had been avoiding her. But if they were going to do it, at least he wasn’t sober. He poured the last of her bottle into their glasses while she glared at him.

“I’m not a Jedi,” she said, old anger flowing from her. He remembered she had been implicated in one of the bombings of the temple, but he had been barely out of the crèche then, and hadn’t followed the details. 

“If you’re not a Jedi, I sure as shit ain’t one,” he drawled, “I’ve got maybe five months of padawan training, balanced against decades of violating pretty much every precept of the Code. So no, I don’t really feel obliged to build up something I don’t believe in.”

“What about Ezra?” she prodded, “You took a padawan, why else if not to restore…”

“Ezra needed help and training, so I’m giving him help and training,” he angrily interrupted. The alcohol caused him to add, “And if he were willing to be apprenticed to a real Jedi, I would have done it in a heartbeat. I didn’t take him to follow the Code of the Jedi, I took him as a student because he needed a teacher, and as far as we knew, I’m all that was available.” 

Anger, hot and potent settled between them as he remembered his struggles to connect with and teach Ezra. Ezra’s touching refusal of another Master, even if one could be found. And the whole time Fulcrum was aware of the situation and chose not to help. He could feel Ahsoka reign in her own anger and release it into the Force. 

“There is no emotion, there is peace,” she gently chided when he didn’t do the same, in what he realized was a near-perfect impression of Master Windu. It hurt to realize that no one else would know who she was mocking. Well, maybe some of the Inquisitors. 

Kanan didn’t bother to adjust his emotions. When he taught Ezra he would struggle for serenity. Before and after each session he would mediate and release the emotions into the Force. He tried to set a good example for his student when he was acting as a Master. Before a mission, or if it was clear his attitude was bugging Hera he would attempt to reign his emotions in then as well. But the rest of the time, he just let himself feel things like anyone else. 

“Peace has had kriff all to do with my survival to date. You want to say you’re not a Jedi but still follow the Code, fine. But you’re not my Master and I have no interest in following a Code that would deprive me of the few good things I’ve found since Order 66.” 

Kanan’s bitterness hung heavily between them as they glared at each other. They were both very drunk now, and so he wasn’t completely surprised when she snapped at him.

“They why didn’t you Fall? You sit there, seething, angry, not even trying! How can you still be of the Light when… when…” she trailed off and Kanan saw a flash of a man a little younger than him with messy dark hair, dressed in Jedi robes. Ahsoka’s force presence simply exploded in hope/hate/despair/love/longing/loss, so many emotions layered atop each other Kanan could hardly get a read on them. 

Her question bothered him a lot, largely because he wasn’t entirely either sure of either the answer of the accuracy of her assertion of his Force alignment. He considered what to say as the Togruta wrestled her emotions back to a level she could tuck behind her shields. 

“The honest answer is probably that Hera found me before the Inquisition did,” he admitted, “But beyond that? Two things. First, to Fall you have to use the Force. After my Master died and before I met Hera I can count the number of times I consciously used the Force on one hand. If you cut yourself off from it, you can learn to deal with your emotions without being tempted as much. I punched a lot of people, most of whom deserved it, and that ‘a Jedi defends, never attacks’ was one of the first things to go. But I’m pretty sure I didn’t Fall. Not completely anyway…”

“Not completely?” she asked, puzzled, “There are Ashla and Bogan. Light and Dark. What else would you be if not of the Light…”

He was silent for a while. Kanan didn’t really like talking about this. He hadn’t even really addressed it with Ezra yet. But he supposed he owed an answer to one of the few people in the galaxy who could hold him accountable.

“Look at your presence in the Force,” Kanan said, slowly extending the last of his shields to cover them both. He wasn’t sure he was sober enough to maintain this for very long. He waited while she examined her own incandescent brightness, a glowing golden sun in his Force vision. True there were threads of Darkness there, but after two galaxy-wide conflicts, he was honestly surprised there weren’t more.

“Now look at me.”

If Ahsoka was a golden sun, warm and nurturing, then the Inquisitor had been a black hole, frigid and full of a darkness all-consuming. Kanan wasn’t like either of those.

Kanan shone like the moon, pale silver, illuminating without warming, waxing and waning, caught between the shadow and the star. The Togruta gasped as she saw his Force-imprint for the first time. He knew it was off-putting to someone who had expected only clear-cut Darkness or Light. He quickly pulled his shields in before they could fall completely. 

“You said two reasons,” she said, disquiet leaking into the Force around her, but thankfully not asking him more about his signature, “What was the second reason you didn’t Fall to Darkness?”

“Hera,” Kanan said, a broad smile gracing his face at the thought of her, “Before Hera I was surviving, mostly. After Hera, I was alive again.”

“And what if something happened to her?” she asked, “What if she had been on the other shuttle today.”

Kanan was drunk enough to consider the question abstractly instead of immediately jumping to an emotional reaction. Which was good, because drunken lightsaber combat was maybe the only kind of drunken fighting he hadn’t had practice with.

“If that had happened… I don’t know. I want to say I would honor her memory, continue her work. I want to say I would be above temptation. That I would be strong, if only for Ezra. But the years before I met her… I learned a lot about myself; the sort of things that make it hard to sleep sometimes. I know myself well enough now to know that I would want vengeance. No matter what I tell Sabine... If something does happen to Hera… I need you to be ready, In case I can’t…”

The stared quietly at the last glass they each held, still untouched. He felt a gentle certainty from her that she would be ready if he Fell. He relaxed slightly; it had been worrying him; he didn’t think Ezra would be able to stop him… Wasn’t sure Ezra would even want to.

“What about you, what would make you Fall?” he asked, taking his turn to ask an intrusively person question.

“There’s a reason I still follow the Code,” she said. Kanan thought at first that was all she was going to say and he was about to raise his glass for the final toast, but she continued, “But if anything specific could make me Fall… Vader. And at least now I have someone who has a shot at taking me out before I destroy the Rebellion.”

He was touched and absurdly pleased that she would trust him with that duty. He let his feelings and reassurance flow through his shields, so she could feel them. For the first time they smiled at each other.

“Well, this has been a shitty day. Dead soldiers death-pacts and deadly liquor, which I’m pretty sure is eating a hole in my liver. To the Jedi, who are gone, and to us poor bastards who are stuck dealing with the fallout,” he said waiting for her to clink her glass against his.

“To the fallen, and to not Falling. To the Jedi who were, and to the Jedi yet to come. To the Rebellion and hope in the Darkness.”

The both pounded back the last of the liquor, and Kanan got up unsteadily. Tonight had been bad, but it had been good to talk to Ahsoka. As they walked towards the crew quarters, he was at ease in her presence in a way he hadn’t yet managed. He hoped he would feel as relaxed around her when sober. At the door to his cabin he paused and turned to her.

“May the Force be with you, Ahsoka Tano.” The ritualized words of Jedi leave-taking came easily from his lips. As they had not in over a decade.

“And also with you Kanan Jarrus,” she said with a small smile. 

Tomorrow was going to be hell. Hera was going to be seriously pissed that he’d fallen off the wagon, and he wasn’t looking forward to the mission debriefing while hung over. But despite that, for the first time since he had learned of her identity, he didn’t feel threatened by her status as a seasoned and serene Force user. Neither of them had survived the fall of the Jedi Order unscathed. Both of them had needed to find their own way in the galaxy, and if she needed the Code, that was fine for her. He didn’t and that was fine too.

Kanan sleepily smiled as the ship rotated around him. The anger and guilt he had carried with him were still there, but they would keep awhile. He slipped swiftly into sleep. For the first time since Mustafar, his dreams were free of nightmares as the Living Force wrapped snuggly around him. 

He dreamed of Hera and their crew; his family. He dreamed of a future full of brightness, of the Lights of other Force users. He dreamed of the Jedi as they could be.

He woke up nauseous, hung over, surly, and for once, at peace.


End file.
